But there is a question.
Who are you when you are at your worst?
Alas I have succumbed to the dreaded lurgy (RSV) this week after a brutal week of nursing two sick kids better(ish) and sleepless nights of hacking coughs and screaming tears. It was like being on a pirate ship of horrors. Yarrrrrgghhh. The scurvy.
It brings stuff up. Yeah no, I’m not talking about phlegm.
I made me feel caught between two opposing desires (to nurture them deeply and to do what I love). Plus I was at a lesser capacity to handle the fork throwing meltdowns of cranky, snot-filled, bored little humans with as much playfulness as they are used to.
One doesn’t feel like pretending to be a dinosaur eating carrots when her own green snot feels like it’s pressing into her eye balls and oozing into her ears. Graphic? Sorry.
Who was there to judge me? They weren’t. It was just self mutiny.
It showed me where my own inner child needs some TLC. It brought up memories of my critical caregiver and an ever crippling millennial urge to say “I’ll just push through”.
But I didn’t push through, we all took time off, I rested on the floor surrounded by colourful paw patrol toys and I wrote an email to you in my mind but didn’t press send. It was a good one too.
So, short story long. This is your permission slip. The world keeps moving and you can join back in at any time after you’ve had a good rest.
